Confessions of a Messiah Who Has Had It
by ThenWhenWeRetire
Summary: A collection of short, nutty one-shots where even the Son of God has his off-days...
1. Confessions of a Messiah Who Has Had It

Okay, several reviewers & PMers have expressed dismay at the content of these stories and concern for the state of my soul, so from now on, to spare everyone psychic pain, I'm going to put **clear warnings at the head of every ficlet**, explaining why it may or may not be offensive. Then you can decide whether it's for you or not.

Confessions of a Messiah Who Has Had It

**Warning**: Jesus briefly exhibits a bad attitude.

* * *

Today didn't start well. A guy was praying for help, really praying, and though he had my full attention it is rare these days for a person to hear me as clearly as I want them to. They talk, but they don't listen. He didn't hear me, and he put the gun in his mouth, and now he's damned as a suicide even though he wasn't that bad a person to begin with.

I don't like it; it's a rule we need changed but of course I can't get to it today, not on Easter when everybody and his brother has something to say to me.

I listen. The first thing I hear is: "Dear God, I have a question. There's this woman…"

Does he really want to ask a 2000-year-old virgin for dating advice? I breeze by him, feel around for a child because children tend to listen a little better and I don't feel so much like I'm banging my head against a wall. There – a girl. She's crying. _Omigod it's over, it's like my whole LIFE is over because nobody is ever going to take me seriously again, he put this picture up online, he swore he would never show anybody, omigod now EVERYBODY saw it…_

Oh, yeah? Poor thing. How would she feel if people took her baby pictures - no, sorry, _fabricated _her baby pictures and made her look all deformed on top of it - and distributed them all over the world? Literally carved them in stone? I have a six-pack, and a head about four sizes too small for a human infant, in at least half of my portraits. Do you know what I actually looked like as a baby? I was fat, and covered in drool, and had smudges all over my cheeks because I used to eat dirt. Like every other baby.

I growl some of this to the girl, but she's not listening… which, given my current mood is probably a good thing. But still. I am sick and tired of people complaining with their ears closed! I want someone whose heart I can reach today, someone who is actually trying to receive me…

I don't stop to think that such a person would deserve better than the snarling ball of bad attitude I have become this morning. Easter is always like this, always full of questions like was it all worth it and for all my "followers" have I really managed to make any difference to anyone-

Aha. I hear something. "Jesus, please take this rage, take it away from me because I know she's cheating again, I _know _it and I'm afraid I'm going to hurt her. Please Jesus make me calm. Take away my anger, calm me, _please _you have to take it away, or else something will happen, it really will."

Normally I'd have a lot of encouraging words for someone like that, but not today. "_Do you expect me to do all your work for you_!?" I give him an instant migraine with the force of my presence but I can't stop. "_So you've got rage; so does everyone! Man up and do the right thing anyway! No, it's not easy. But do it!"_

He's holding his head now, he's had enough. I tune him out, but a million other voices take his place at once. Churches are the worst. Today they're packed and it's like loudspeakers, thousands at a time, all just a little off-key or off-tempo so that it forms this colossal anti-symphony that makes me want to pull my hair out. I try to focus on just _one_, that usually helps.

Except today the one I've chosen is a joke: the prayers in there are empty, every single one. "Goddamn it they need cushions on this damn thing," someone is thinking. "God she looked at me again. She's definitely looking at me. Should I smile back? Or pretend I don't notice?"

Do they not realize I can hear what's going on in there? It's like the Jerusalem Temple all over again. _What are they doing in my house_!?

All of a sudden I'm _there_, in the flesh or as good as, and boy do I have a lot to say. "Not one of you is actually present!" I shriek. "Don't you dare set foot in this place again until you can bring your hearts with you!" My father's going to kill me (again) for this, but it's done. And it seems effective; immediately I start hearing actual prayers, words that are actually aimed at me. "Jesus forgive me, my God how could I have doubted, fuck Jesus I'm so sorry I didn't know, I believe, I do, tell me what you want…" Etc.

"You all know what I want," I say. "People spent their entire _lives _writing it down for you and you've all got a copy sitting right there!" I take a breath but just before I figure I'm finished, something else catches my eye and I decide to get another pet peeve taken care of right here and now. "You know what else I want?" I ask, pointing to a big fresco on the wall. "I want you to stop painting my head at a 45-degree angle." And I gesture to the huge crucifix behind me: "And stop making me look like a girl!"

On the one hand I'm already forgiving them, telling myself _ah but they didn't know any better, _but on the other hand that's just too bad. Now they do. Because suddenly I'm standing there in just a loincloth, which is somewhat ratty at this point considering it's my favorite and I've worn it for two millennia. "This is what I look like," I say, gesturing to all the hair and muscles. Then I throw my arms wide. "And this is what I look like on a cross. Understand?"

They're staring, minds abuzz with a bunch of bizarre thoughts and then I notice I've got stigmata today, bright and messy and glowing. It happens sometimes, some days more than others, and this morning it seems to be a heavy flow day and I've left puddles all over the floor, staining the carpet.

Heh, something tells me attendance at this church will be up for a bit.

Which reminds me: the priest is still standing right behind me, dumbstruck. I drop to a knee without thinking and kiss his hand. "Forgive me for disturbing your sermon, Father." His other hand brushes over my head for a moment, and I like what I sense from him: awe, but not shocked disbelief like some of these people. It calms me, and then I feel myself fading from their nutty little circus and then I'm home.

God's there, a thick warm presence like a blanket all over me and suddenly I feel kind of bad. "Forgive me my temper," I sigh right away. "I will pray about this and I'll try to be more patient with all your other children…"

But he doesn't seem angry at all. "I had you because I wanted a human son," he reminds me. "And all humans have their weaknesses at times."

Forgiveness pours forth from him so readily that I feel far more chastened than if he'd actually _done _anything to me (which he has on occasion, and though he calls it _teaching _I do believe I know a punishment when I see one).

Anyway, I feel good now, at peace, and I want to share it. "I'm ready to hear prayers now," I tell him. "In love and patience this time."

He smiles at me and I melt into a thick gooey puddle of contentment right there. I sit down and open up my heart.

The first person to get hold of me is a kid again, no more than fifteen or sixteen years old. "Dear Jesus. I'm miserable. I don't know what to do, my parents are so mean to me, it's not fair, you'll never believe what they're making me do this weekend…"

An hour ago I would have blown a _gasket_ at that one, but now I just chuckle. "Trust me I sympathize. I'm sure they love you anyway. Go ahead and tell me about it – I'm listening."

* * *

The End.

Pretty please leave me a review!


	2. Jesus Christ Blooperstar

Jesus Christ Blooperstar

**Warning:** Jesus makes a mistake.

**Warning:** Contains zombies.

* * *

Heh, heh. Let me tell you something about the Gospels.

Calm down. I'm not going to say they're not true. They're true, every word... but you know how when you watch a movie and think: _my God, what a great actress - those tears look so real!... _you never stop to wonder how many tries it took her to get it right. Would you be just as awed if you saw the outtakes? "Frankly, Scarlett, I- _achoo!_ - Dammit, sorry, I have allergies. Once more. Frankly, Scarlett..."

It's the same way with me. I know everybody is very impressed with the Lazarus thing, for example. Sorry to disappoint you, but it was actually a fair bit of trial and error before I managed to pull it off properly.

From an early age I knew I could raise the dead. God had explained it to me and I thought I understood, and my first try was a stray puppy I saw kicked to death by a couple of kids I'd _thought _were my friends. I was a sensitive child, I didn't like it, so when everybody had gone I went and knelt by the dog and willed that it be resurrected.

It opened its eyes, and the first thing it did was turn its mangy little head and bite me. To the bone. I ran away in tears and figured I'd put a hold on planning any more resurrections.

Years later, when God started gently suggesting that I familiarize myself with death a little better, I tried it again. No animals this time: I went to a cemetery, stood before a tomb and ordered: "Rise!"

I heard some commotion in there and I was proud of myself for a second, until I also heard some commotion _behind _me. The ground under my feet was shifting. I looked down, and realized that corpses were starting to dig themselves up out of the earth all around me.

And they _were_ "corpses"_, _not people. Rotted, decomposing bodies with unseeing eyes and grabby hands and God knows what they'd do to me if they got hold...

I screamed like a girl and ran for it, sure that they were chasing me, begging God at the top of my lungs to make them go away.

When I was finally too exhausted to run anymore I looked over my shoulder-

And fainted. When I woke up there were no dead people, just a farmer holding a damp cloth to my forehead. I didn't ask him whether he'd seen my ridiculous behavior or not.

God and I had words that time; I remember ranting and raving about how am I supposed to fulfill Your mission if You scare me to death first... but in the end of course, as always, He made me understand.

I couldn't just go around resurrecting whoever I wanted. If their souls were already with God, at peace, He wasn't going to send them back down just because His idiot son felt like testing his powers.

I didn't try it again until He told me the time was right to raise Lazarus. He told me what to do, and I did it. Correctly.

Nobody knows about the earlier bloopers... and nobody knows that as we stood there waiting for Lazarus to unwrap himself and come outside, I almost died of nerves.

Then I would have had to resurrect myself, I guess.

But I have great PR people. I'm sure they could have somehow spun it as a positive.

Anyway, now you know.

...

What - _another_ one? Come _on_, at this rate you won't have any awe left at all! Well, okay: last secret for today. You know my Twelve, the famous ones? They weren't the first. There was a set before them.

I actually don't like to talk about what happened... suffice it to say that I wish we'd had fire extinguishers back then. Or, alternatively, I wish I had known I need to be very careful what I wish for. Overall I don't have many regrets about my earthly life... but asking the Lord to fill my disciples with holy fire, well, that's definitely one of them.

...

I'm kidding. _Please_ tell me you didn't really think that I went around setting people on fire?! Or that God would've let it happen?!

Go apologize to Him right now! Go on, shoo!

* * *

The End.


	3. TGIF

T.G.I.F.

**Warning: **Someone doesn't like Jesus.

(This used to be posted as part of a different collection, but I figured it fit better here.)

* * *

Scuse me. Do you know what all the commotion is today? It's not just the holiday, is it?

...

Really? All this, just for a crucifixion...? Oh, he's _famous_. Well, in that case...

Excuse you! I am _not _drunk; it's 10AM and I just got started! Besides, you're only a drunk if you drink alone, and I'm not drinking alone: I've got you. Sit down, have a sip. Want to hear what happened to me?

Of course you do, it's a great story... as long as you're not me. If you're me, then it's a tragedy. Listen:

I wasn't always like this. I didn't always wear rags and smell like an outhouse. I had a home, and a wife, and a great big herd of pigs. Sure, wrinkle your nose, but plenty of people eat pig and I can assure you mine were some of the best pigs around.

Anyway, I was out with them one day, and along comes this nut. Clearly sick, touched, crazy, whatever you want to call it. He's lurching around, shrieking to himself and listening to people nobody else can see... until this _other _guy comes along, says he's a healer, and lays hands on the guy.

The nut actually gets better. He does. I was sober then; I know what I saw. He got better.

For a second I was thinking, hey, this healer is _good_. But then... I guess he saw me staring at him, I don't know... the fucker puts a _curse_ on my pigs. He cursed them, I know he did. The entire herd. He looked straight over at them, raised his arm and pointed...

And within seconds they're _berserk,_ right,worse than the sick guy ever was. Howling and snorting and stampeding each other. Before I can get in there to try and calm them down somehow, they take off, all together, like something is propelling them.

They run - an entire _herd _of _pigs - _off a cliff. Straight off, to their deaths.

I just stare. The sick guy and the witch walk by me and I don't even think to stop them. That's my life and my livelihood there, dead, gone in the space of ten seconds and all of a sudden I have _nothing_.

My wife doesn't believe it - who would? She thinks I've gone out and gambled everything away. She leaves me, and I leave the house, because there's nothing left for me there now.

Which brings us to today. I've got nothing. Nothing to eat and drink except what I can beg or steal. Nothing to do, and nothing to look forward to.

This afternoon should be good though, right? I get to see somebody who has it even worse than me.

Have they tried him yet? No? Are you kidding! Then let's get over there; he's probably going to beg and cry. That'll be hilarious. Go ahead, you can have a little more, but save me the last sip.

* * *

The End.

Pretty please let me know what you think so far!


	4. The NOUN of the Lord

The (NOUN) of the Lord

**Warning**: Contains Mad-Libs

* * *

Mark: (holding a piece of paper) Hey, Jesus, we just came up with a really good game. Okay, ready? Give us a noun.

Jesus: What?

Luke: A noun, you know. The name of a thing - rock, tree, faith, whatever.

Jesus: Oh, okay. Um... fish.

Mark: (laughs) Okay: another one.

Jesus: Snake?

Mark: (laughs) Great! Another one...

Luke: It doesn't have to be an animal, you know...

Jesus: Fine, fine. Uh... egg. Isn't there something more useful you should be doing? Praying, maybe?

Mark: (writing) In a second. Give us one more, last one!

Jesus: I don't know!? Scorpion, okay? Now leave me alone!

Mark: Perfect. Now, read this out loud.

Jesus: (reads) _If your child asks for a fish, will you give him a snake? If he asks for an egg, will you give him a scorpion?... _Huh? Guys, what the hell is that supposed to mean?

Luke: (slaps Mark five) Ha! He said it!

Mark: He _did_ say it, so we can definitely put it in there. Awesome!

* * *

The End. (Yes, that quote is from the Bible. Yes, I'm sure it's got a perfectly sensible meaning in context. No, I do not consider "hell" to be a curse word). Drop me a line!


	5. Kids These Days

Kids These Days

**Warning:** God's POV. Probably rife with theological incorrectness - God and Jesus exhibit a teensy hint of goofing around.

* * *

I sigh down at them. They make quite a dramatic picture there, Judas cowering on his knees and Jesus sprawled over him, shielding him with his body (as if he thinks that would help!)

"What are you doing?" I ask, as if I don't know.

"Please don't." Jesus's voice is muffled in the traitor's hair and I almost can't hear him. "Father please, please show him mercy..."

He's obviously looking pitiful on purpose, but nevertheless my voice softens as I explain, "I don't disagree with anything you plan to say for him, Jesus, but remember he rejected the gift of life. That alone, even if he had never-"

"Father, no." Jesus looks up when he interrupts me, as though watching to make sure he doesn't push too far. "I love him. Spare him for my sake, then, if not for his."

I take a moment to choose my words carefully. I can't say he's lying, because he's not. I can't say he's asking for too much, because we both know he can have anything he wants since his desires are always perfect (except for that grove of cotton-candy trees, which I find hideous... but I guess everybody is entitled to a little whimsy every now and then).

Before I can cross my arms and explain that mercy has sometimes to be tempered with justice, he jumps in again: "I need him here with me. It will torture me if you send him away."

He stands up, and Judas, by now certain of where his best chances lie, clings to his legs.

Jesus rests a hand on his head as if it's a stray dog he's asking to keep. "Father, I love him."

We're going to need to have a talk, he and I, but we can't do it with that poor man shaking and crying on the floor there.

I tell Judas he can stay, and send him out of the room.

"You can't keep doing that," I tell Jesus.

"I only spoke the truth."

"You _need _him with you?" I repeat. "Just like you _needed _the prostitute before him, and the tax collector before that?"

Jesus just shrugs, demurely, eyes on the floor. He keeps a straight face - although I don't know why he bothers; we sound silly to me, too.

"You _love _him? You loved _them_? You love _all _of them?" I press, but again, he doesn't even have to answer. I know perfectly well he loves them; I'm the one who made him so uncondionally loving in the first place! Still. "So far you've interceded for every leper and bartender and soldier you ever met on Earth - deserving or not. You're eventually going to have to stop it."

"Then I should turn a deaf ear when your children pray to me for help?"

I hardly know whether he said that or I did. It reminds me all over again that he's _me _in all the ways that matter... and there's no point trying to pretend I'm displeased with him. Still, I do my best to sigh and shake my head, and mutter something about children never getting the point.

Jesus just beams at me. Angelically.

* * *

The End.

Drop me a line! I'm wearing my stone-proof construction hat today; I can take it.


	6. Savior: It's What's For Dinner

**Warning**: Title may be considered offensive. The story itself is harmless.

Savior: It's What's For Dinner

* * *

The last supper we all sat down together to was not nearly as romantic and beautiful as you people always paint it. We weren't dressed up. We didn't have enough chairs. And the bread was actually pretty stale, but that at least didn't matter much to me, because I felt so ill about what was coming that I could hardly touch my food at all.

The one thing people _do_ get right, though, is that I spoke well. Despite everything else that was going wrong for me… and despite getting off to a somewhat rocky start as far as sermons go… I apparently awed my men enough to keep them believing in me even after they saw, with their own eyes, that it was all over. (I'm really proud of them for that, by the way. It's one thing to believe in miracles while you see them, but another thing entirely to put your faith in a guy you just saw get squashed like a bug. And yet _another_ thing to still be willing to follow in his footsteps afterwards.)

Anyway, as I said, I didn't start out all that strong that last night. They were clustered around a low table on the floor, jealously defending what little elbow-space they had, and nobody was listening to me. As soon as we'd given thanks in the usual way they started to jostle each other for the food, pass the wine around, chattering. I was reminded of a nest of newborn birds waiting for their mother to regurgitate them dinner. (And I was almost nauseous enough to make the analogy a lot apter than they would have liked.) "Before we start, I have a few- please. Listen. I have a few things I want to say."

I might as well have been speaking Gaulish. They passed the bottle, passed the bread, paid no attention. "Hello? _Simon_," I said sharply, and for a second Simon glanced towards me… until someone passed him a plate and he started looking for a spot on the crowded little table to set it down. "Would you please-…" I could feel myself getting frustrated, very frustrated. I was about to lay down my _life_ for them, and they couldn't care less! "You know, I could be about to warn you I peed in all the food," I snapped to nobody in particular. "And I poured blood in the wine bottle."

"What?!" Judas dropped his cup and wine splashed everywhere. "That's blood?"

Oops, apparently someone was listening after all. The commotion finally got everybody's attention, and I could hear them whispering _he says that's not wine, it's blood_ all the way down the table.

"Uh..." I stared at the spilled wine and thought fast. Wine, blood, spilled wine, spilled blood, spill blood like a sacrifice, a sacrifice like me. Aha. "Uh, yes. That's what I said." I cleared my throat, saw that I really had their attention now, and picked up a cup. "This wine…"

* * *

So I got into my groove and for a while I was doing better. As I was speaking, though, I was slowly becoming aware of a very unpleasant smell.

It was B.O. _Bad_ B.O. At first I tried to ignore it, but the night was warm, and as time passed it only got worse. I stood, thinking to move around and find a place where it wasn't as strong… but it pretty much permeated everywhere. The air was still enough for me to get a feel for the direction it was coming from: probably Peter, although possibly it was John off to his left…

It was distracting me – whoever it was, he really reeked. There I was, trying to compose words that would inspire these men for the rest of their lives, but I couldn't even _concentrate_, because somebody at that table had the absolute stinkiest feet I had ever encountered. "That's it," I said finally, not even halfway into my speech. I called for water and a sponge. "Time out: everybody, take off your shoes."

* * *

The End.

Sunuxal: I suppose you could make a case for "respectless," although I'd say more… aweless, or reverenceless. I think you can respect people and still poke slight fun at them.

And thanks for reviewing, guys! I'm glad to see that not everybody hates me.


	7. 10,000 Spoons

10,000 Spoons

**Warning: **If you're opposed to the idea of Jesus getting kind of Punkd, this story may not be for you.

* * *

It was eight PM.

I could read, write, and raise the dead, but I'd never learned to cook worth a damn and I was now faced with five _thousand _hungry people. Since we didn't have delivery back then, and anyway we were broke, there didn't seem to be much to do besides send everyone to go look for dinner somewhere else.

Of course there was more I should've said that day. But all my talk about flocks and sheep had the audience salivating already, and if we didn't get food in the next couple of minutes somebody was bound to raise his hand soon and ask what God thought about cannibalism in times of need.

_You're not done yet. Feed them and keep going._

I winced. I'd sort of been expecting that, but what did he want me to do? _Feed them what, Abba? We're in a desert, _I reminded. I was starving too, and getting grouchy. All we had lying around was a little bread and a few fish... which was even less appetizing than it sounds on paper. Think old tuna sandwiches left out in the sun all day. Delicious, right?

_Just feed them._

So I had my guys sit everone down and pass out what we had. I was thinking: heh, one bite'll be more than enough to change these freeloaders' minds. I expected the crowd to thin out within seconds.

Instead, the first guy to get a mouthful started going _mmm_ and scarfing down an entire plateful of food that I could have sworn was more than I passed him.

Then the woman next to him reached for a piece, and his plate was _still _full. That's when I _knew_ something was up. I whined _God come on, _but as people ripped off more and more chunks of bread, the loaves only got bigger. _You've GOT to be kidding._

_Does it look like I'm kidding?_

No, it didn't. The crowd was happy now, munching yet attentive, waiting for me to speak.

I told Peter to make sure they saved a plate for me, so at least I'd have some leftovers to snack on when I was done. Then I stood, and picked up the sermon where I'd left off.

* * *

It went for two more hours. I felt like I was teaching people, reaching people, and I felt good. The crowd didn't lose interest the entire time, and I only stopped when my voice was at last too tired to be heard over all the wind and cricekts and crying babies.

At that point I thanked everone, blessed them, finally sent them on their way.

I cleared my throat but I could hardly talk. "Somebody give me a drink," I rasped.

"Uh..." Peter looked a little embarrassed. "You didn't say to save you any of the water... you only asked for..."

I turned to see what he was pointing at: They had indeed saved me some of the leftover food. Twelve baskets in fact, _twelve_ _baskets_ of dry bread and salty fish, and not a drop of water anywhere. In the middle of a desert, no less.

_Abba, that's not funny_.

_Yes it is, _God said back. And, His will being law and all that, immediately it was hilarious and I started laughing. Even though I was still thirsty.

* * *

The End.

Great big thankyou to everyone who's commented so far!


	8. Make New Friends

Make New Friends...

**Warning: **What can I say? It's goofy.

This will probably be the last story of this collection. It'll be a little longer than the others, posted in two parts. Here's part one. Let me know what you think!!

* * *

**(A diner, 2AM, on New Years Eve. It's empty except for a few sad characters at the bar, and a booth where Jesus sits across from an older man who's overweight and a little drunk-looking, but otherwise pretty pleasant. He has a warm smile.)**

Waitress: So, what can I get you gentlemen this evening? I'm Donna.

Jesus & friend, same time: I'm Chris.

Friend: Er...

Jesus: All right, I'm J-... Giovanni.

Friend: And I'm… Sam?

**(Waitress gives them a strange look.)**

Friend: Do you have hot cocoa? I'll just have that.

Jesus: The same for me, please. **(Waits til she leaves.)** So. I'm glad to finally meet you.

Friend: **(blushes.)** Oh, why, thank you... and the same to you, of course. It's an honor. And I'm sorry to bother you with this, it's just… I didn't know who to go to, and you know people are always saying _talk to Jesus_, and I thought maybe... In all honesty I wasn't sure you'd come.

Jesus: Here I am, and I'm glad to help. What's wrong?

Friend: **(Deep breath.)** Well. I know an earthly job like mine must not seem all that important to you.

Jesus: Your work matters.

Friend: Thanks. Means a lot to hear you say so. Anyway... It's so hard to... to judge a human being - _you _know - and I just made a mistake. I was wrong about this kid, but I didn't realize it until too late and I'd already handed down the verdict. And now I feel like I've... done something heinous to him. Something irreparable.

**(The waitress is back with their cocoa. The friend waits til she is gone, then augments his with a flask from his pocket.)**

Friend: Want some? Warms you up when the nights are cold...

Jesus: No, thanks - the cocoa is warm enough. **(Silence for a while.)** Only God can know a person fully. _You _can't, and you don't have our perfect understanding of perfect justice. Your job must be terribly difficult at times.

Friend: It is. When it goes well it's wonderful, but this time... I just felt _awful_, seeing the look on this kid's face… it was like I could _see _him losing faith in the world. He wasn't guilty. He was a good kid. And I've just made him think that good goes unrecognized. I don't know what to do for him.

Jesus: Unfortunately I don't think there's anything you _can _do right now. Some mistakes we just have to live with.

Friend: We. **(Snorts. Sneaks a gulp from his flask.)** With all due respect, sir: please don't patronize me. _You've _never made a mistake in your life; you have no idea what it's like.

Jesus: Actually, that's not true. You wouldn't _believe _the ass I waved into Heaven just before I died.

Friend: **(blinks)** Hmm? Ah - the good thief! See, I do know my catechism.

Jesus: Yes, that's what they're calling him now. But he was not, in fact, a _good _anything. It turns out he was a morally bankrupt, conniving and manipulative little worm... basically a poster child for all of Satan's methodology. When I think of all the decent people waiting around in Purgatory, while this guy… **(shakes head.)**

Friend: Then why…

Jesus: Because he caught me at a rare vulnerable moment, that's why. Any other day I'd have seen right through him and given him an earful like-

Friend: Shh - she's coming.

Waitress: Can I get you anything else?

**(Friend hurries to put his flask away.)**

Jesus: Thank you, we're fine. **(Waits til she's gone.)** Anyway, next time you should pray for guidance. You might find it easier to distinguish the just from the wicked, if you had my help.

Friend: Yes – thanks. Thank you. I've just always thought, you know, that as it's my job… that I should be able to judge people on my own.

Jesus: Nobody's ever _really_ on his own, Sam.

**(Cell phone rings. Friend answers.)**

Friend: Hello- what? Now? Are you sure? But it's a week early… All right, of course I'll-… yes, I'll be right there. **(Hangs up.)** I'm sorry, Jes-… I mean, erm. I have to go. Dancer's in labor and I want to be there for the delivery.

Jesus: Of course, of course, go. Will you make it?

Friend: Oh, absolutely. You know how fast I _usually_ drive – and that's _with _the sleigh full of presents. It's empty tonight; I'll make even better time. **(Hiccups.)** God willing.

Jesus: God's willing. **(Eyes the boozy hot chocolate.)** Just try not to hit any planes on the way. Happy New Year.

Friend: -to all, and to all a good night!

* * *

TBC.


	9. But Keep The Old

... But Keep The Old

A/N: This is a continuation of the previous chapter. The song in this part, which I did in fact hear in a pub once, is sung to the tune of Battle Hymn of the Republic.

**Warning: **Completely off the wall. Jesus spends New Year's Eve drinking with Santa Claus and Lucifer. Ye be warned.

* * *

**(New Year's Eve. Jesus walks into a bar. Santa's already there, in a booth, sipping a big glass of water. His nose is a little less red than last time.)**

Santa: Evening, _Giovanni_.

Jesus: **(Sits)**. How have you been, Sam? You're looking better.

Santa: Thank you, I've been trying to... **(Gestures to his water)** cut back. Not counting last month, of course; Decembers are always stressful... but other than that, I've been on the right track since the summer.

Jesus: That's great. I got your birthday card, thank you.

Santa: You're welcome- oh! That reminds me: mail. I've been meaning to ask you this. Boys and girls sometimes seem a little confused about what I can do for them, and I end up with a lot of mail that should more properly be addressed to you or your father. What do you want me to do with it?

Jesus: Actually, that runs in both directions. Pony-giving and the like is really more your job than mine, but children - young ones especially - send a lot of that to me.

Santa: Should we start forwarding the misaddressed letters to each other, do you think?

Jesus: Yes. And the gray-area ones, we'll just each keep his own.

Santa: All right... I've always wondered, though: what should I do with requests to bring pets back to life? It breaks my heart, but...

Jesus: Throw 'em away. What else are you going to do? People ask me all the time, for pets _and _humans, but...

**(Door opens and a guy walks in. He's got spiked hair, which only imperfectly conceals two short horns. He looks around and then meanders over. He's quite striking, all in leather, and by the time he reaches their booth he's trailing several female patrons and a cute young waitress.)**

Lucifer: You could refer those people to me, guys, and maybe I can work something out. **(Turns to waitress)** Hi, kiddo, how's about you start bringing some drinks on over? Open up a tab for me. I'm... Sam.

Jesus: No, you're not. _He's _Sam.

Lucifer: Fine. Then call me... L... Louie.

**(Waitress goes.)**

Jesus: Not that introductions are necessary at this point, but... **(Looks around, lowers his voice**.) Fallen One, this is Father Christmas, going by Sam today. Santa, though I won't say his name, you know exactly who's just sat down with us... just call him Louie for now, and don't be afraid. He can't do anyone any harm with me here. **(Voice hardens up)**. What do you want here, creature?

Lucifer: I prefer _Louie_. Sounds so cute and harmless, doesn't it?

Jesus: God knows you no matter what you call yourself.

Lucifer: Pompous ass. **(Turns to Santa)**. So did I hear you've gotten clean now? Congratulations. We should get a beer to celebrate. **(Sniffs the air. Sinister, sibilant)**. No... you're not such a beer guy, are you... let's see... I bet you are more partial to-

Santa: You know exactly what I drink; you're the one sending me anonymous bottles of it every couple of weeks!

Jesus: **(Outraged)** Louie!

Lucifer: What? He could throw 'em away if he wanted!

Santa: Y'know, where I come from, you don't buy a man a drink except as a gesture of friendship. And you are certainly not my friend.

Lucifer: **(Even more sinister)** I would like to be. What'll you have?

Jesus: Stop it, I'm warning you.

Lucifer: **(Sneers)** Why - are you on that diet again?

Santa: Diet?

Lucifer: These days they don't make gods of bratty little girls who try to starve themselves; they lock them up and stick a tube down their throat.

Santa: **(Laughs, a little forced)** Come on, now, stop it. Everyone is supposed to be jolly this time of year. You want a little chat and cheer? Tell you what: if it's all right with Gio it's all right with me. Drink, boys?

Jesus: You know I don't...

Santa: Oh, come on! You drink wine.

Lucifer: Indeed he does. And I think we have a vintage here we'd all find quite... tasty. **(Leers, licks his lips)**.

Jesus: **(Hand migrates to neck protectively)** _One _drink. Everybody pick his favorite, we toast, we go home. And then, Louie, you will stop sending bottles to Sam in the mail. Agreed?

Lucifer: My my, Sammy-boy, he's willing to make a deal with the devil for you! Oh, the selflessness.

Jesus: **(Flexes his hand, and for one moment a bloody wound shimmers. Doesn't even need words).**

Lucifer: Now, let's not show off, shall we. **(A sharp sound from under the table; what he's tapping is not a shoe)**. What'll you have?

Santa: A good brandy, if you please.

Jesus: A little wine.

Lucifer: **(Stands up)** To hell with the both of ya! Hey - barmaid! Three Irish carbombs!

Santa: **(Nose wrinkles)** Ugh - carbombs?

Jesus: **(Looks horrified)** Carbombs?

Lucifer: Carbombs. Wait right here. **(Heads up to the bar and fetches them in record time.)** Drink up, kids. To...

Santa: To people!

Jesus: To people.

Lucifer: Heh, heh. To people.

**(They drop their shots in their beers, and chug. Santa and Lucifer finish together. Jesus lags behind, but gets there eventually and bangs his glass down next to the others)**.

Jesus: Eugh! That was _vile_! It tasted like sin.

Lucifer: Didn't it just. **(Smirks)**. So... what's next - brandy?

Jesus: I said _one_!

Lucifer: You said we _each _get to pick one. Cmon, Jezey H, you're not going to make a liar out of yourself, are you? That's my job.

Santa: He does have a point, Gio.

Jesus: **(Half-swallows a burp)**. Fine. I won't waste my time arguing with you. Brandy: just a little, very quick, then home.

**(Lucifer's already at the bar, chatting up the bartender. It doesn't take him long)**.

Lucifer: Brandy! **(Pours, from a big bottle, into big glasses)**. Toast to what?

Santa: _Hic!_ To the children!

Jesus: **(Mildly, tipsily amused)**. To the children.

Lucifer: To the children.

**(Santa gulps while the others sip. He catches Lucifer's eye, Lucifer winks, and his glass is full again. Another wink... and so is Jesus's.)**

Jesus: Louie, I warn you...

Santa: Ah, ease up. We're all friends here.

Lucifer: Or will be soon. We pour another few drinks down that holy hatch of his, and he'll be going _Get thee behind me Satan _with a whole new meaning.

**(Santa snorts. Jesus takes a minute to get it)**.

Jesus: Ugh!

Lucifer: Oh, please: tell me you don't find this adorable. Go on - tell me. **(Subtle shift in his features; suddenly he's of ambiguous gender and very sexy)**.

Santa: **(While pouring another round)** Whoa there, son - first off that's disgusting, and second, if you get us noticed we'll have to leave.

Lucifer: We don't _have _to do anything. Mr. Omnipotent over there can bend their wills with a thought.

Jesus: Forget it.

Lucifer: Come on, J-

Jesus: If you start the tempting thing, I'm out. I'm not in the mood tonight.

Lucifer: **(Sneers)** He has a headache.

Santa: Ease up. Look - another round and we're almost out of brandy. On to the wine?

Lucifer: I'll get it - I have to go take a leak anyway. **(Off he goes)**.

Santa: **(Burps)** Giovanni, I'm surprised: you really can hold your liquor.

Jesus: Hardly. I'm changing about half of it into water as I go - and I'm still dizzy. Be careful. It's not safe to get drunk around you-know-who; the minute he thinks your guard is down he'll talk you into something you regret. Remember what happened with Eve...

Santa: **(eyes wide)** Eve? Eve was drunk? _That's _why she did it?

Jesus: He told her: hey, I know you can't eat that fruit there, so why don't you try these mushrooms instead? They're pretty good. **(Shrugs)**. Next thing you know, Eve's high as a kite... hearing voices, snakes that talk, the whole deal. At that point she'd've eaten live coals if someone told her to.

Santa: Wow.

**(Lucifer returns, wineglasses already poured.)**

Lucifer: And here's for you, and for you... and for me.

Santa: Hold it. Gio, switch glasses with him. For all you know he poisoned yours. **(Switches** **the glasses)**

Lucifer: **(Dirty look. Empties it on the floor and pours a new one)**. These days we call it "roofie," you outdated old fart.

Jesus: Roofie?

Santa: _Me _outdated? What about _you_? You're supposed to be the devil himself, lord of all things that go bump in the night... and people couldn't care less about you.

Lucifer: Oh, come on. Back me up here, Jesus. People invoke you against me all the time.

Jesus: **(Smirks) **Actually... more people pray for protection against the ghosts of dead Japanese children than protection against you.

Lucifer: You lie!

Jesus: Nope.

Santa: Ha! I knew it. And I'm not surprised - the elves got ahold of a copy of _The Grudge _a few years ago and-

Lucifer: Fine! You want to see something? Check this! **(Raises his voice, shouts to the bar at large)**. Hey! _Hey_! Jesus can't play rugby!

Jesus: What?

Some Drunk Guy: Yeah! **(Sings)** Jesus can't play rugby cause he's only got 12 men! Jesus can't play rugby cause he's only got 12 men...

**(The tune's not hard, and other drinkers pick it up. By the end of the verse half the bar is involved. Drunk Guy leads them through several other verses: Jesus can't play rugby cause his headgear is illegal. Jesus can't play rugby because he has open wounds... etc)**.

Santa: God forgive me, I actually know this song. **(Chants along)** Jesus can't play rugby cause he wears illegal spikes...

Jesus: **(Into his wine glass)**. I have a half a mind to learn rugby; that'd put an end to this.

Lucifer: You can't. Why? **(Catches up with the song)** ...because your dad will fix the game! You cannot play rugby cause your dad will fix the game-

Jesus: **(Trying, _trying _to keep a straight face)** Oh, that's very mature. Sam, next year give him a big bag of coal from me, will you?

Santa: Don't worry, it's under control. What do you think's been fueling the fires of Hell all these years?

Jesus: **(Blinks)** Really? **(Bursts out laughing)**

Santa: Good Lord, you're drunk.

Lucifer: **(Raises his glass)** Amen to that.

Jesus: And a happy new year!

**(Bar patrons are all getting down on their knees for the last verse of the song)**:

Drunk People:  
Jesus, we are only kidding.  
Jesus, we are only kidding.  
Jesus, we are only kidding.  
Jesus saves, Jesus saves, Jesus saves!

* * *

The End.

Ok, if you've read this far, you must have something to say! Drop me a line, prettyplease!?


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